Before the Phantom

A Visitor (pt. 2)

   Erik looked after Nadette for a moment, making sure that he did not hear any of his traps being set off.   When nothing happened, he turned to Christine, who was eyeing him with caution and curiosity.

"You know Nadette?"

"Yes," he said simply, "Christine, why have you come?"

Christine, who had not moved from her place since Nadette left, took a step forward, "I wanted to make sure you are alright, and to ask why you cut the chandelier. We righted the wrongs of the managers, and I performed in Carlotta's place! I simply don't understand-"

"What I do is none of your concern." He snapped.

Christine, fearing she had angered him, took a small step back, "I see.  My apologies, Angel."

Taking a breath to calm himself, he continued, "You are not injured, are you?"

Christine felt a tiny smile grace her lips. For all his faults, her Angel did at least try to be kind to her.

"No. I am perfectly alright. And yourself?"

She cared about his wellbeing? After what she had seen? After all that she knew?

"I am fine."

The girl's delicate fingers found themselves playing with a bit of lace on her gown, and she took no notice of the fact as she spoke again.

"How long have you known her?"

"Does it matter?"

"No, well yes.  I mean, I am only curious."

Erik tilted his head slightly at that.  Why was she curious? What did it matter to her?

"She was my first friend.  We were but children when we met.  She was eight, and I was five years her senior."  He explained.

Christine did not miss the slight softening of her Angel's voice when he spoke of the older woman.  She did not know why, but her stomach churned with some emotion she had not felt before.  The feeling was most certainly not welcome.

"My.  What a long time!" The girl exclaimed.  Her reaction was almost entirely feigned. "How much does she know about you?"

The masked man knew what she was hinting at, and he stiffened under Christine's wide-eyed gaze. "Everything."

Well, everything he had thought of.

"I see."

What on earth was wrong? Christine's voice sounded thick and cold to Erik.  What was the matter?

"Are you quite well?"

"Of course."

"Is anything wrong?"

"Well, what on earth would be wrong?"

"You just seem.."

"What?" Snapped the young soprano.

"Nothing, of course."  The masked man decided not to broach the subject.  He was unsure he had the words to do so in any case.

"Christine," he began again, "I apologize for what happened last you were here."

"Oh.  I suppose I shouldn't have invaded your privacy.  Nadette scolded me for it when I told her what happened." She muttered, not really meaning the apology. 

"Yes.  She can be very convicted." He chuckled.

"She was not..." Christine began, then bit her lip in hesitation.

"Yes?"

"She was not... afraid of you when she saw what you hide?"

At this, Erik felt his anger return to him, and he struggled to push it away.  "No."

"How strange." She said absentmindedly.

"Oh? It is strange that someone could look upon my face without terror or disdain?  That not everyone nearly dies of fright when they see what lies beneath?  It is strange that somehow, by some miracle, someone saw fit to show me compassion?"  He seethed at the girl.

"I did not mean-"

"No of course you didn't.  You're just a young, naive little girl.  You think with your eyes rather than your soul.  You chase pretty, trivial things and handsome young men without consideration for those you surround yourself with.  God forbid that for once in your life you look with your heart, and not with your eyes!"

Christine stood, stricken with shock as she stood her ground.  She let her face fall into a marble mask of indifference.

"I would like to go home now."

"Yes.  I believe that is best."

Silently, they journeyed back to the surface.  He led her to the mirror in the ballet dormitories, and bid her farewell.  He was calmer now, and decided to be civil.

"I apologize for what I said."

Wordlessly, and without acknowledgement of his words, Christine stepped through the mirror. 

Erik slid it shut behind her, and studied her eyes when she turned at the sound.

Christine's doe eyes were such a lovely chocolate brown.  So rich in color, and full of innocence.  They were warm.  Beautiful in every way.  Yet, somehow they seemed shallow, and without layers.  It was as though they hid nothing, and were interested in very little. 

There was a time when his heart would nearly burst from the sight of those eyes.  Now, he looked at them in confusion. 

Why did he not want her to stay? 

He studied her eyes harder, trying to make himself long for Christine the way he had only weeks ago.  Those eyes.  Those lovely, soft eyes.

How different they were from Nadette's.